


Find My Own Peace.

by Bandit_Ferret



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Author Projecting onto Wilbur Soot, Character Death, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Wilbur Soot, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Major Character Injury, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Minecraft, Non-Canonical Character Death, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Poor Wilbur Soot, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29838399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandit_Ferret/pseuds/Bandit_Ferret
Summary: After blowing up L'manburg Wilbur begs Phil to kill him and Phil refuses, choosing to attempt at helping Wilbur recover mentally before Wilbur takes matters into his own hands.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Find My Own Peace.

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just author projecting onto Wilbur

"Phil kill me!" Wilbur yelled many times after realizing what he'd done. The faces of everyone staring back at him causing guilt to pierce his conscience. "You're my son!" His father yelled. The voice a broken father rang out. The worst pain a parent of any kind could feel would be loosing their child, followed only by having their child beg for their life to end. "Look! Look! How much work went into this and it's gone!" Wilbur handed Phil the sword. "Kill me." 

Phil stared at the sword in his hand and contemplated. His son was obviously in a lot of emotional distress and he could put him to peace right now. But he could also help him work through it. Phil looked back up at Wilbur, who had his arm stretched out, gesturing to the crowd. "Look they all want you to!" 

He stared at the crowd, all of them watching in disbelief, or disdain, Phil couldn't tell. "Phil please!" Wilbur's voice began to shake as he lost his composure. "Phil I can't go on!" "I-I..." Phil watched as his son began trembling. Phil dropped the sword and pulled his son into an embrace. "I can't kill you." 

Wilbur mumbled.... something. Phil didn't understand what he'd said. It didn't matter. He had his son. He was going to help his son. He was going to put his son through therapy and watch him heal. Wilbur was going to be alright.

At least that's what Phil thought would happen. He really thought he would be able to save someone so destined to die, someone so determined to embrace death. If Wilbur had to do it with his own hands, then so be it.

Phil caught Wilbur trying to overdose. He took the pills away, called for help, and Wilbur survived. Wilbur hated that he survived. He hated that he was too antsy to wait for Phil to not be in the house. Now he was under strict watch. Whenever Phil went somewhere, Wilbur had to go too. 

It was weeks before Phil decided he could trust Wilbur by himself again. It was understandable. Wilbur had tried to take his own life, so of course his father would become protective of him. 

Wilbur assumed that people remarked that Phil hadn't done the right thing by letting Wilbur live. They would say "Even Wilbur understands what he's done." Perhaps telling Phil that Wilbur's attempt on his life should've been left for him to complete. Maybe told Phil that he should have overdosed on the floor, covered in his own blood like he was. Or even better, Phil could have fulfilled Wilbur's request. Phil should have stabbed him with the sword. Ended his life. At least then he wouldn't be bothering anyone in L'manburg anymore.

Wilbur had scars. Phil knew. Actually, Wilbur thinks everyone knows. Yet he still hides them. He felt he needed to feel physical pain. Pain for what he'd done to everyone. He destroyed their homes, took away normality, took their peace, their pride. He hated himself. Why exactly had he listened to Dream anyway? He just told him to do something and Wilbur did it without questioning it. There's no more use in thinking about what he should have done. The past is the past and the future should go on without him. 

He remembers the last thing he said before pressing the button. Exactly what Eret said. "It was never meant to be." He repeated it, one letter removed. "I was never meant to be." He walked amongst the civilians. All of them hated him, they had to. Of course they did. Stupid Wilby. Stupid, stupid Wilby. 

L'manburg was on its way to recovery. Tubbo had ordered reconstruction. L'manburg really needed it. They didn't know what to do about the big hole other than to simply build into it. If there's one thing the citizens of L'manburg were good at, it was adapting. Wilbur clearly wasn't a true citizen if this was the case.

Another thing was on its way to recovery as well, at least that's what Phil thought about Wilbur. In actuality, Wilbur was merely forcing himself out of bed, letting Phil tend his scars, eating, walking, and sleeping. That was pretty much his daily routine. He would wake up, Phil would see how his scars were healing, he would eat, talk a walk around L'manburg, maybe get verbally abused while walking, go home, and sleep. In all honesty, it wasn't a "maybe" for when he'd get verbally abused, it was guaranteed. "You should've died that day." "Look at what you've done to us" "Why don't you take those pills again?" "Take more this time" "Not even Schlatt would've done this." "Cut yourself again, why don't ya" "Are those scars new? Burn longer."

It's okay. Wilbur understood. He knew he wasn't wanted. What he told Phil the day he pressed the button was true. They did all want Wilbur dead. He saw himself as nothing but a mistake. A problem cause. He doesn't even know how Phil had put up with him. How Phil had put up with his behaviour. Wilbur felt bad for Phil. Phil had no idea what was really going on. If he did he would surely stop it. But the people of L'manburg were only venting their anger. Wilbur didn't mind. It didn't hurt that much anymore. It hurt more to get out of bed than be told the truth.

Tommy never spoke to him anymore. Wilbur knew why. He had put Tommy through so many wars and then blew up his home. Tommy only ever glared at him during his walks now. The kid had obvious PTSD and Wilbur wished the best for his baby brother. He regretted taking Tommy and putting him through all that. He hopes Tommy is able to heal. 

Wilbur couldn't heal. He was far beyond fixing. Everyone obviously hated him and the one person who cared Wilbur felt bad for. He pitied Phil and his ability to care for something so broken, so destined for death. "Your scars are healing well!" Phil would say in excitment. Really, Wilbur had moved from his arms to his legs. It hurt more. The skin was more sensitive there anyway. His legs were littered with fresh cuts and burns. He often used his time alone with either a blade or lighter in hand. He deserved it for what he'd done. 

It had been months now. Months since Wilbur's last attempt, minutes since he'd been with a blade in his hand. He re-did his arms again. He was going to die today. He was ready and Phil was out. He had to act fast. He knew Phil, was coming home soon. He had to quickly write a letter, adressed to the one person who would actually miss him, explaining that he was tired and wanted to be at peace. To finally have peace, despite the fact that he didn't deserve it. 

His arms were still bleeding. He cut deep. Really deep. Wilbur was certain that he would just bleed out, but he cut deeper. There was blood all over the floor, trailing where he walked around the house as he mentally said goodbye to everyone he'd miss that wouldn't miss him back. Even the letter he was leaving was covered in his blood. It would be a strange death message for sure. Wilbur believed his death message would either say "Wilbur Soot bled out" or "Wilbur Soot died." 

Wilbur didn't want Phil to find his body, just wanted him to know where he went. Even if it was pretty evident that Wilbur was letting himself bleed out, he wanted to confirm it for Phil. Wilbur had already left the house, not realizing that his blood was still trailing behind him, dripping from his fingers and leading everyone right to him.

Wilbur walked until he started feeling dizzy. He forced himself to walk further, searing pain as his wounds rubbed against the sleeve of his trench coat. He felt so dizzy, so tired, he no longer had the energy to stand, so he collapsed. Still conscious, eyes heavy, he thought about if he had chosen to continue. Maybe he would've healed. Maybe he would've been treated better by others. Maybe Phil wouldn't have had to keep an eye on him anymore. Either way, that last one was true. He thoughts were cut abruptly as he heard someone scream his name.

Of course Phil had gotten home early. He wasn't too panicked until he saw Wilbur on the ground, covered in his own blood. Phil had seen the drops, the trail that Wilbur left, and had followed it. He had a feeling something was wrong, but in Wilbur's eyes this situation couldn't have been better before Phil found him. "Wil!" Phil yelled, almost as if he was the one in burning agony and not Wilbur. "Dad..?" Wilbur was so dizzy, so sleepy. Phil hadn't heard Wilbur call him dad in years. "Wil hang on! I'm going to get you help and you'll be okay and you'll recover and- and-" "Dad just leave it." "W-what?" Phil's eyes started to water. "N-no! No! Stay awake! Please! Wil! I'm... I'm getting help!" Phil was beginning to panic, shaking Wilbur to keep him awake and alive. He had hope. God he had so much hope. Hope that he would see his son flourish again. Become a leader again. He never wanted to see him laying down, half dead on the floor again.

Phil was struggling with the decision. He really couldn't get help, who would shake Wilbur awake to keep him alive then? At the same time he didn't want to let Wilbur die. "Just... let me die." Wilbur said. "That... That day I pressed the button. The day you refused to kill me... I told you I would do it myself." Wilbur's eyes began watering like Phil's and he smiled. "This.. Dad this is peaceful" Wilbur made the best effort to look up at his father, who was sobbing as he decided it was best to let Wilbur go. "Dad?" Wilbur asked, his voice was the weakest it had ever been. Phil sniffled. "Yes son?" "Thank you for caring about... me." Wilbur was so dizzy. The world was either spinning so fast that it felt slow, or spinning slower due to his rapid blood loss. "Rest now, son... Find peace... you deserve it."

With Phil's permission, Wilbur closed his eyes for the final time. His breathing slowed to a halt as Phil's sobs slowly faded away. Wilbur was gone. "Wilbur Soot died trying to escape Wilbur Soot." Wilbur was right, it was an interesting death message. Wilbur was a broken man. Even with darkness surrounding him he found himself able to think, able to realize that maybe the citizens of L'manburg weren't really telling him to off himself, try harder to off himself, or hurt himself more. Realizing that he couldn't separate his thoughts from what other people were really saying. It's alright though. The afterlife seems a lot like his life was just a few minutes ago, but he's happy now. He doesn't remember a lot but he likes talking to people now, even if he thinks they are just figments of his afterlife. Everyone calls him by a cute new name too. Wilbur found peace as Ghostbur, and he deserves it.


End file.
